Page 40 of The Fake Affair

I shake my head, feverish in my urge to get the words out. “None of it matters if I can’t have you.” The words surprise us both. “Not just for show. Not just for the board. All of it. The good morning coffees, the late-night conversations, the way you challenge everything I think I know...” Besides, they’re probably eating up the public display.

She grabs my tie and pulls me down to her level. “Take me home.”

ELEVEN

TIMING

Bella

The drive home feels endless. Every red light is torture, and every stop is an eternity. Logan’s hand hasn’t left mine since we got in the car, his thumb tracing patterns that make it hard to think.

“Almost there,” he says quietly.

I want to say something witty, something to maintain the pretense that we’re still just playing roles. But after his display at the museum, after that possessive “you’re mine” that still makes my stomach flip, pretending seems pointless.

When we finally reach the penthouse, the elevator ride is torture. Logan stands too close, not touching me but radiating heat that makes my skin tingle. His eyes meet mine in the mirrored walls; they’re bright, but I can’t tell what’s happening in his head.

“Logan—”

“Don’t.” His accent wraps around the word. “If you start talking, I might start to overthink things and remember all the reasons why this is wrong.”

I smirk.

“What?” he asks, one eyebrow raised.

“Nothing. Just that it’s quite a sight to see an alpha male complain about overthinking things.”

“Well,” he starts as the elevator door opens to our floor, “it beats me, too. You have completely undone me, Bella.”

His hand finds the small of my back as he guides me inside. The touch is innocent enough, but it sets my skin on fire.

“Every logical part of me says this is wrong,” he continues, closing the door behind us. “You’re my sister’s best friend. My assistant. This could complicate everything.”

I turn to face him, letting my clutch fall onto the console table. “We’re already doing this, remember? We’re pretending in front of the world that we’re in love while I’m your sister’s best friend and your assistant.”

“You have a good point, but you do know what I mean. These concerns have held me back for years. I’m not afraid to say I’m scared, Bella. I want to be logical.”

I take a deep breath. The conversation just got more intense.

“Tell me, Logan. What does the illogical part of you want?”

“The illogical part has wanted you since you quoted Shakespeare just to piss me off.”

“That was years ago.”

“Exactly.”

He moves closer, and I back up until I hit the wall. Just like that night at Audrey’s wedding, but this time, there’s no whiskey to blame. No excuses. We’re fully aware of what is happening. It’s just us and years of denied attraction now.

His hand comes up to cradle my jaw, thumb brushing my bottom lip.

“I guess it’s the last chance to stop this,” I tell him.

He leans lower, his breath fanning my face. “I don’t want to stop, Bella. I want you to really be mine.”

The last word barely leaves my lips before I kiss him. It’s nothing like our sex in the coatroom or his couch. We’re both pouring our feelings over the years into it.

My hands find his tie, but before I can loosen it, his phone starts buzzing. It’s loud and insistent in the quiet apartment, but we ignore it. It stops and starts again immediately.

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